Mistake
by GeorgieInTheSky
Summary: Phan - Danisnotonfire/AmazingPhil slash. Phil and Dan have had an argument, and Phil has gone missing. Dan is devastated, but what will he do in the end? Rated T for language and themes that some readers may find offensive.
1. split knuckes

"Hey, mate, are you okay?" A stranger, a young man who looked like he was in his early twenties, a similar age to himself, looked down at him, a look of concern mixed with wariness on his face. Phil didn't bother looking up from where he sat on the cold ground.  
"Yeah. I'm fine." He offered no more information as to why he was sitting on the ground, in a rundown park on a Thursday night, alone. Phil saw the man shrug from the corner of his eye, and listened as the footsteps died away. He hugged his knees to his chest, searching for warmth, comfort, anything. He found nothing. Looking for all the things he had left behind, with the person who meant the most to him in the whole world. A single tear fell from his eye and rolled down his cheek, splashing onto his jeans. Memories filled him, happy ones, but he found no joy in their existence. They made him ache, a dull ache consuming his entire being with longing, longing for Dan. "He never wants to see you again, idiot." Phil muttered to himself. Angry now, rather than upset, he punched the ground repeatedly, achieving nothing except splitting his knuckles. He watched the blood run down his fingers, not caring about the pain. He deserved it. "You idiot." He whispered again. He pushed himself to his feet slowly, unsteady on his legs. He had nothing, nowhere. Blood still trickling down his fingers, he began to walk. He had no particular destination in mind, his legs taking him where they wanted to go. Stopping, he looked up, actually taking in his surroundings. Across the street, he saw groups of teens staggering along the pavement, drunk out of their minds, bottles in hands. And suddenly, he knew where he wanted to go.

"No. I haven't seen him.. I thought maybe he might have said something to you? No? Okay. Just…just let me know if you hear anything." Dan let the phone fall, burying his face in his hands. Where was he? Where was Phil? He'd been gone when Dan had woken up this morning, bed made, everything in perfect order, as if he hadn't slept there at all. For all Dan knew, maybe he hadn't. Phil wasn't answering his phone, for anyone, whether it was his parents, his other friends, or Dan. Nobody had seen or heard anything from him. Images flashed through Dan's brain, images of Phil lying in an alley, his icy blue eyes glazed over and lifeless, or Phil not looking where he was going and running out into the road in his devastation, being hit by a car, lying still on the road, dying. It was too much. Dan ran to the bathroom and was sick, crouching over the toilet. Shaking, he slowly stood up, catching sight of himself in the mirror, and he looked a mess. Even with his tanned skin, he looked unhealthily pale, ill. His eyes were bloodshot and slightly swollen from crying, and looked like they wouldn't open properly. His hair was a mess, not his natural curly hair, but not straight either, somewhere in between the two. He hadn't bothered straightening it today; he'd been preoccupied with worrying about Phil. It stuck up at odd angles, like he'd just got out of bed. Sighing he walked into the kitchen to get a glass of water. He didn't care about how he looked right now. All he cared about was getting Phil back.

"What can I get you?" The woman behind the bar asked him. Phil looked up from where he'd been staring at his fingers, tapping them on the edge of the wood, lost in thought.  
"Hmm? Oh, um... Whatever will get me drunk the fastest." He replied. The woman raised an eyebrow but said nothing. She poured him a shot glass full of a clear liquid and slid it to him.  
"That ones on the house. You look like a man with a problem." He smiled weakly at her in thanks, then took the glass and downed the whole thing in one go. He sighed and slid the glass back to her. "Wow. Want to talk about it?" She asked, in the middle of pouring him another drink.  
"No." Phil said. The woman shrugged, and passed him his drink, and he downed it again. And so the night went on. She didn't push him any further, and for that Phil was grateful. He didn't want to talk. He wanted to forget.

"Hey Phil. I know you think I'm mad at you, but I'm not. I'm so sorry. I'm worried about you, everyone is, your friends, your parents, me. I hope you're safe. Please come home." He ended the voicemail. It had been three days since Phil had disappeared. Just three days? It felt like years to Dan. It wasn't the same without Phil's stupid jokes, and constant comforting presence. It felt wrong, watching the door, waiting for him to walk through it, knowing that he probably wouldn't. Dan didn't belong here without Phil. He was an intruder. Everywhere there was Phil; memories of him, his possessions, all of them had a story, special to the two of them. Tears began to fall from Dan's eyes, and he curled up in a ball on the sofa, his face buried in a pillow. "I miss you Phil." He whispered, his words muffled and inaudible to anyone but himself. He lay there for goodness knows how long, in a sort of trance, whispering Phil's name. A vibration in his pocket alerted him to his surroundings. Almost comically fast, he sat up and wrestled his phone out of his pocket, desperately praying it was Phil. It wasn't.  
_Heard anything yet? PJ  
_Quickly, he replied:  
_No. Still waiting. Tell me if you hear anything. D  
_He heard the reply, but didn't check it. He didn't want to know. As worried as PJ may be, he would try and make Dan feel better, which would only make him angry. Phil was the only one who could make things better. Leaving his phone where it was, he slowly got up and walked to Phil's door.


	2. lost and found

Dan took a deep breath, and opened the door. He closed his eyes and breathed in heavily. Phil, it smelt like Phil, and god it hurt. Bracing himself, he opened his eyes and looked around. Totoro was still in place on Phil's bed, his collection of games and toys that he still had from his childhood. Seeing these things made Dan smile, but the familiar ache was still present. Being here...it wasn't right. He didn't belong. This was Phil's place. Not his. And yet, he couldn't bring himself to leave, and instead curled up on his bed, clutching his Totoro, eyes closed. It was the closest he could do to having Phil with him. And yet, it was nowhere near close enough.

Phil woke up in the same state, on the cold ground, having had hardly any sleep, head pounding. He groaned and didn't open his eyes, oblivious what was going on around him, wrapped up in his own troubles. Slowly, he sat up, resting his head against the wall. Four days. It had been four full days since he'd left, and they had been the worst four days of his life. He didn't know what he was doing it for any more. Everything was so hard, even the release of drinking was only temporary, and considering his awful headache, he wasn't sure if the after effects were worth it. He sighed and opened his eyes, to be greeted by the night sky and the smell of smoke. He coughed and stood up, leaning on the wall for support. He had no sleeping pattern, he slept when he was tired, whether it was night or day. He didn't care. Unwillingly, he stumbled out from the alley, rubbing his eyes in an attempt to wake himself up. He thought about switching his phone on, but decided against it. He didn't want to see what anybody had said, hear the messages, read the texts. Because ultimately, he knew that if he turned it on, and there was nothing from _him, _well, that would be worse than not knowing.

"You can't stay in there forever, Dan." PJ called through the door.  
"Yeah, just let us in. We'll just wait here until you do, and believe me, we can be really annoying when we want to be." Chris added. Dan sighed and got up from Phil's bed where he had spent the night, and walked to the door. Unwillingly, he opened and greeted his friends.

"Hey." He said. They were both smiling at him, genuine smiles showing they cared. He couldn't bring himself to smile back. He didn't want to. The smiles on their faces faded.

"That bad?" PJ whispered. Dan nodded, opened the door wider to let them in, and then walked away. PJ shared a worried glance with Chris, before following Dan into the kitchen.

"Um, do you want a drink or anything? I know train food isn't exactly the best..." Dan asked them.

"Nah, thanks I'm good." Chris said.

"Yeah, nothing for me either thanks." PJ replied. "So..how have you been holding up?" He asked. Dan just shrugged in response, poured himself a glass of water and went to sit on the sofa. PJ sighed. "He'll come back, Dan. He cares about you." This time, Dan completely ignored him, pretending to be absorbed in whatever he watching that was suddenly so interesting to him. PJ decided not to push him any further, but murmured to Chris, "we need to find him."

Phil sighed. He had nowhere to go, nothing to do now. He'd pretty much spent all his money and didn't have the sense to bring any of his cards with him when he left. The only thing certain about his future is that he was leaving. Leaving it all behind. He was going to get on a train, and go somewhere new, somewhere he hadn't been before. Start again. And yet, every time he convinced himself it was right, and was about to buy the ticket, he couldn't do it. He couldn't leave. Because leaving meant losing everything. He couldn't make videos anymore, which is what he loved doing, and pretty much the only thing he was good at. He mentally shook himself. He could worry about that later. He'd made his decision. He was leaving.


	3. So close

For the first time in days, Dan didn't feel miserable. PJ and Chris had managed to drag him out of the house, and as horrible as it had seemed to him at first, he was actually enjoying himself. Even though he was smiling and laughing with his friends, he couldn't completely block Phil from his brain. Every time he saw a flash of jet black hair, he'd get his hopes up, or the blue eyes across the street that seemed so familiar to him, but belonged to stranger. He wondered where Phil was, what he was doing. Above everything else, more than wanting him back, he wanted Phil to be happy. If he was happy wherever he was...well, Dan could live with that.

Phil had lost track of the days. Was it five now? Six? He didn't remember. His days followed no pattern anymore, drink, sleep, eat, sleep, drink until he passed out. He'd been putting off leaving, even though he'd made the decision. Just a few days more to say goodbye to the place that he loved.. He walked down the street, his hands in his pockets, head down, staring at the floor. He didn't like being amongst people, they made him feel uncomfortable. He was afraid of seeing anybody that he knew, even though it was unlikely they'd recognise him in the state he was currently in. Afraid that they'd convince him to go back, back to Dan. He wanted to, so badly, but he couldn't. He couldn't do it, not when his last memories of them together was him shouting, he'd been so angry that it had scared Phil. Manchester was pretty empty at this time, most people were still at school or work, and there was hardly anyone about. From further down the street, came the sound of a familiar laugh, the one he'd been aching to hear for days. "No. No, I can't do this..." Phil muttered to himself. He ducked into the closest shop, pulled up his hood and stared out of the window as three familiar figures walked past. Chris, PJ and Dan. His friends. And they were laughing, all three of them. Phil wanted to know what the joke was, to be included. He watched them walking and joking around, and his resolve broke. He couldn't take it. He ran out of the shop, tears threatening to spill from his eyes, and ran in the direction the three had come from, not caring that he was attracting attention. He wanted to get away, as far away as possible, running towards the train station. He didn't care about goodbyes. It was easier to let go without them. Dan, he was proof, he didn't care that Phil was gone. Phil came to a stop outside the train station, gasping for breath, leaning against a wall and closing his eyes. "See Phil. He never needed you." He muttered to himself. Had Phil paid more attention to his surroundings, he would have noticed the hooded figure staring at him from across the street.

A second. It had taken a second for all the strength that Dan had built up to deal with Phil being gone to come crashing down. Chris had cracked some stupid joke that had made them all laugh, when they heard a door slam. Across the street, a pale figure dressed in jeans and a jacket was running out of a shop like his life depending on it. Yet nobody was chasing him, and Dan could see no danger. Confused, he looked at the figure again. His breath caught in his throat. All he saw was a flash of black hair, but that was enough to confirm his suspicions. Because that was Phil's favourite jacket. Dan watched him disappear. He was dimly aware of trying to walk forward, almost falling, and strong hands catching him before he hit the ground. But none of that mattered. All he could do was stare. He'd been so close. But it wasn't close enough.


	4. Remembering Sonic

Phil stared at the doors to the station from the alley he had stopped in, dreading the moment he would have to walk through them. Closing his eyes, he felt himself slide down against the wall to sit on the floor, not caring that people would stare. He didn't feel sad, only empty, and in a way, that was worse. No pain, but no hope, no happiness either. Just…nothing. Dragging himself up off of the floor, he looked around. A group of teenagers, dressed in black, hoods up, stood on the opposite side of the road. Their presence made him uncomfortable, they weren't rowdy or causing any trouble, just silent, and one of them was looking straight at him. The boy noticed him looking, and whispered something to the rest of the group. Unsure of what to do, Phil chose the worst possible decision, and backed further into the alley, trapping himself. Slowly, the boy turned from where he was huddled in his group and walked across the road, in Phil's direction. The other boys followed. Internally, he panicked, trying not to let it show on his face, turning and walking away as if he had a destination in mind. He heard the increase in the pace of the footsteps behind him, and tried to force himself to believe it was a coincidence. He didn't recognise any of them, but then, plenty of people knew about him from YouTube. Could they have some kind of grudge? Phil shook his head, turning a corner. The foot steps behind him got louder. He stared before him in disbelief and panic. Dead end.

The temporary comfort that Dan had felt was gone with the departure of Chris and PJ. Behind their smiles as they waved goodbye, he could see the pity and regret there, and it made him feel worse. He didn't want pity; all he wanted was Phil back. He sighed and closed his eyes; letting thoughts of him flood his mind. He found himself smiling at memories of cat whiskers, making pancakes and heated games of Sonic. Without Phil, none of that meant anything. It was meaningless. He didn't want the memories without him to share them with. On impulse, he grabbed his keys and walked of the door. For the seventh time that week, he was going to look for Phil.

Trying to keep his breathing slow and steady, as if to appear calm, Phil slowly turned around to face the group. He swallowed; his throat was dry and he didn't want to appear weak.  
"Can I help you?" He asked, sure that the fear was showing in his eyes, but doing his best to keep his expression calm anyway. The leader of the group, the tallest of the men smirked and took a step forward, towards Phil.  
"Yeah, you can actually. You're the fag off YouTube, aren't you?" The man asked, an expression of disgust crossing his face.  
"W-What? Yeah, I make videos." Phil replied, no longer bothering trying to mask that he was scared. The man shook his head, laughed slightly and took another step closer to him.  
"No, see that isn't what I asked, is it? You might not have come out to all of your little fans yet, but it's obvious. And, well, let's just say that we don't agree with your sort." Phil took a step back, anything to get away from the terrifying figure before him.  
"I don't know what you mean." Phil said, but it came out quieter than he had intended it to. The man smiled, but it was a hostile one, and his glare was full of hatred.  
"Oh come on. Don't pretend you're straight. We've been watching you, we have, we've seen you with your precious Dan. Where's he been this week, huh?" Phil closed his eyes in pain, only confirming to the men what they wanted to believe. "Nasty faggot." The man spat at him and then punched him in the face, square in the jaw. Phil heard a crack, closing his eyes in agony, biting his tongue to avoid crying out in pain. Whether the leader of the group gave a signal, or the men were just well organised Phil didn't know, but immediately, two of the group rushed forward and tied his hands behind his back. Phil didn't see who, but somebody punched him in the stomach, hard, causing his breath to catch in his throat, and him to slide down the wall to rest in a sitting position. He was in a corner, trapped, no way out. He wriggled around, he was sitting on something and it was uncomfortable. As he realised what it was, he stilled, a glimmer of hope in his heart. _His phone._ He hadn't turned it on in days, so he hoped it still had battery. The idiots hadn't noticed it in his back pocket, and if he could get it out without them noticing… he could call someone. Dan. Dan was the only person who cared enough to come. Dismissing that thought, he wriggled around until he could reach his phone. It was difficult considering his hands were tied up, but he eventually managed it. He sneaked a glance at the men, to see if they had noticed. They hadn't they were all too wrapped up in discussing what to do with him. Phil turned his phone on, praying it was on silent. And to his luck, it was.

Dan had searched everywhere he could think of. He didn't know where else to look, he had been to all of Phil's favourite places. There was a niggling thought in the back of his mind that he had left, gone, forever, but Dan couldn't let himself think like that. He _was _still here, and he would come home. He sighed and began to walk home, when he felt a vibration in his pocket. Frowning, he pulled his phone out. Nobody ever rang him unless… no, he couldn't get his hopes up. And as the caller ID showed up on his screen, Dan felt his heart lift and his eyes light up. He'd been willing him to call for days, and now, finally, he had.


	5. Shot

Phil closed his eyes and prayed that Dan would answer, and not hang up on him. He didn't hold out much hope that Dan would want to talk to him right now, maybe ever. He gave his phone a couple of minutes to start up and load properly, and then typed in the number that was so familiar to him, the one he knew better than his own. His fingers knew which keys to press without him having to think about it, and for that he was grateful, he wasn't sure in his current state he could properly think through anything. The vibration in his hand was the only conformation that it was ringing, and a sudden uncertainty filled him. What if it was the wrong number? Biting his lip, he felt the vibration stop, and heard a faint "Phil?"

Dan waited for Phil to say something, anything. Just hearing his voice again would be worth it.  
"Phil?" He asked again. No answer. He sighed and was about to put the phone down, when he heard a whisper of "Please don't hang up. Help me." Dan bit his lip and listened.

Phil knew he had to talk, find a way of letting Dan know where he was without his attackers knowing he was doing it.  
"Please don't hang up. Help me." He whispered. The leader of the group looked round and stared at him.  
"Got something to say, Lester?" He said, not hiding the distaste in his voice.  
"Yeah, actually." Phil said, suddenly feeling brave. "Why me? I know I'm not the only..." he swallowed and managed to choke out the word, "fag, around here. So why me?" He asked. The leader smirked and turned round fully to face him.  
"That's easy. People know you, know who you are. Word will spread quickly. We'll get our message out faster." Phil grimaced and looked the man in the eyes.  
"I'm assuming what you have planned isn't… pleasant." The man walked closer to him, bringing his face closer to Phil's and bending down so they were on the same eye-level.  
"Well done. You have some brains in that head of yours. No, it won't be pleasant." He stood up and turned to face the group. "But don't worry. It won't hurt for long. I'm sure we'll soon get… bored." Phil shuddered at the words, and even though he knew he wasn't technically alone with Dan listening in to the conversation, he felt it, and hell, he was scared.  
"I'm going to die alone, in this alley, and nobody will know where I am. I suppose you're going to catch a train and disappear afterwards, considering the place you chose to attack me is right next to the station." Phil said. The man turned round and glared at him.  
"You've said enough, faggot. Now, close your eyes, and do try to be quiet, the more you beg for us to kill you, the longer you'll have to wait."

"..The more you beg for us to kill you, the longer you'll have to wait." Dan's blood ran cold at the words. He stood motionless, all he could think about was Phil, and how this was his fault, maybe if he hadn't upset him so much he'd run off he would be okay. Suddenly, Phil's words echoed in his brain. _Alley…going to catch a train. _Phil had given him the clues. He could find him. He could make sure Phil was alright. Keeping his phone pressed to his ear, he began to run.

Phil couldn't help it. He cried out in pain, not caring that he was giving them exactly what they wanted. Breathing heavily, he opened his eyes as much as the swelling would allow, which wasn't very wide at all.  
"Having fun?" This was someone new, someone who hadn't yet hit him or said anything. He shared the joke with his friends, a few of them laughing at Phil's pain. He obviously wasn't please with Phil's lack of response, and slowly and menacingly withdrew a knife. His breath caught in his throat. With nothing but their bare hands they had hurt him enough, and he knew that this was going to be a lot worse.

Phil was making noises of pain that no longer sound human. Each time they cut him, dug the knife into his skin and twisted it was more painful than before. He was losing faith fast. Maybe Dan wasn't coming. Maybe he'd called the wrong number. Maybe he didn't care enough to… No. Phil pushed that train of thought aside, and focused all of his energy on containing as many of the cries as possible, and trying to stay conscious. It was getting harder and harder, and he knew that by trying he was just dragging out the inevitable and hurting himself more, but he held onto the hope that Dan would save him, and that if Dan was here, then everything would somehow be alright. Closing his eyes, he thought of Dan, all the happiness and good times that they had shared. It gave him strength, and he knew that somehow, he would make sure he was alright, if it meant he got to see Dan again. However, in a moment of terror, Phil forgot that, forgot everything.  
"Alright Lester. We're bored now. We'll give you a few minutes to say your metaphorical goodbyes and let go and all that shit. Be grateful. Things could have been a lot worse." Because pointed at his chest was a gun.

Dan heard the silence, and he panicked. He ran faster, because he knew that hearing nothing was worse than hearing Phil's pain. And then he stopped. It was possible to pinpoint the exact moment that his heart broke in two. Echoing from his phone and echoing in his head, was the unmistakable sound of a gunshot.


	6. Deathbed acceptance

Dan froze. He couldn't form any thoughts, only a single word, echoing around his brain. _Phil. _He was aware of his feet moving, but he couldn't control where they were going. It wasn't real, it couldn't be. Not his Phil. The most lovable, innocent, adorable person in his life. It couldn't be real. He stumbled on, picking up the pace as things started to become clearer, and words started to snap back into place, until his mind didn't feel so jumbled any more. As things became clearer, made more sense, he ran. Phil had to be okay. Dan didn't notice the boys that shoved past him as anything more than an obstruction, blocking his way to Phil. If he'd looked, he would have seen how the group was easily strong enough to overpower Phil. He would have seen the nose of a gun poking out a pocket. But he didn't, and he kept running, until the train station came into sight.

Phil lay in agony. It was worse than he'd imagined. They hadn't managed to get a clean shot, missing his heart, and the pain as the life slowly bled out of him was unbearable. The man had been right. He would rather be dead. And since he was going to die, that much was inevitable, there would be no harm in admitting to himself what he'd been denying for months.  
"I love Dan." He whispered to himself. He managed a weak smile. Thinking of Dan gave him a warm feeling. Even though he knew it was stupid and too late to regret anything now, he couldn't help but wish that he'd realised. That he'd told Dan. But he was grateful. Grateful for the time he'd had, all the wonderful people he'd met, all the things he'd had the chance to do. And above all, he was grateful for the few short years he'd had with Dan. That he'd had the opportunity to meet the most perfect being in the whole world, and that they'd shared a special friendship. He was sad it was ending, obviously, but in a way, he was alright with it. Because he'd been given a lot in the time that he'd had, and if this was how it was meant to end, well, then so be it. Sighing, Phil closed his eyes, and waited for the slow and painful end.

Frantically, Dan looked around. Where was he? He couldn't find any alley, and he'd been looking for too long. Desperately, Dan scoured the street, looking for the hidden location. Suddenly, he spotted one, across the street, and he ran, faster than he ever had in his life.  
"Phil?" Dan shouted, oblivious to the stares of the other people on the street. The alley was dark and long, and Dan felt a knot twist in his stomach at the lack of response, and ran faster, turning a corner. There, lying on the ground, eyes closed, looking so peaceful he could have been sleeping, was Phil. "Phil?" Dan cried, tears spilling down his cheeks, splashing onto the ground. He dropped to his knees and felt for a pulse. "Phil." Dan whispered gently, choking on his words, feeling his heart break, for the second time that day.


	7. Revenge

Phil could hear Dan, but he couldn't do anything. He tried to open his eyes, move his hand, anything to let Dan know he was still there, still fighting, but he was too far under. Phil felt himself slipping, and fought harder to stay, for Dan. The argument aside, Phil loved him. But unfortunately, love couldn't fix everything. It couldn't fix him.

"Phil, please." Dan whispered, feeling for a pulse again. His heart leapt. It was weak, but it was there. "Phil? If you can hear me, squeeze my hand, anything." Nothing. He didn't know what to do, he'd done all the he could. He sat, by Phil's side, waiting for the paramedics, holding his hand, stroking his hair. He was still bleeding. Dan wondered how much it hurt, whether Phil was in pain. Gently releasing Phil's hand, he curled his hands into fists, his nails digging into his palms, drawing blood. If he ever found who did this, he would make them pay. Make them hurt. It was the least he could do for Phil. Revenge.

Dan paced the hospital corridor, waiting for news. It had been hours since they'd arrived, and he hadn't been allowed to see Phil. Sitting down, he rested his head in his hands, praying. He wasn't religious, but he thought that if there was a God, and he let Phil be okay, that he might be. He'd never ask for anything else again, but he couldn't lose him. Not again.  
"Daniel Howell?" Dan's head snapped up, to see a young doctor walking towards him. "You can go and see him now." A tight knot formed in Dan's stomach as he slowly followed, along corridors, around corners, up lifts, eventually coming to a small white room. The man gestured to the door. "He probably isn't awake. But if he is, he's probably in pain." Dan flinched and nodded slightly, before resting his hand on the door handle and turning it, pushing the door open slightly and peering in. Phil was asleep, and the steady beep of a heart rate monitor was audible. Lying there, covered in cuts and bruises, he looked so vulnerable, and Dan would have thrown himself in front of a hundred bullets to protect him. Slowly and quietly so as not to wake him, he shut the door behind him and went to sit by Phil's side.

Something wasn't right and Phil couldn't put his finger on what it was. The first thing he was consciously aware of was the fact that this wasn't his bed, and then after a few short seconds, a burning pain in his chest, and aches and pains all over his body. For a moment, he panicked, he couldn't see, his vision black, until he remembered to open his eyes. He blinked a couple of times, the artificial light of the room hurting his eyes, until he was used to it. He looked around the room, the white walls, and the clean and sterilized smell. Hospital, he decided. That would explain the pain. He looked to his right. Dan. Asleep. Holding his hand. He shifted slightly to try and comfortable, and Dan's eyes instantly opened.

"Phil." Dan whispered, feeling himself tear up and break out in a smile. "You're awake." Phil nodded, also feeling his eyes fill with tears that silently spilled over.  
"You came. You found me." Phil said. Dan gently pushed Phil's hair back from his face so he could look him in the eyes.  
"Of course I came. You really think I could leave you?" He gently wiped Phil's tears away with his thumb, feeling a few of his own slide down his cheeks. Phil could only smile weakly in response, and then shook his head. Everything was alright in the end. Dan had found Phil, he was going to be alright. Phil winced and he tested the extent of his injuries by trying to move his limbs, biting his tongue to stop himself crying out. This didn't go unnoticed by Dan, who frowned and then leaned in to kiss his hair. "How badly does it hurt?" He asked. Phil gave no response, making Dan frown even more. "Go to sleep, Philly. You'll feel better when you wake up." Phil smiled at the use of the nickname. Now Dan mentioned it, he was tired. Closing his eyes, Phil fell asleep to Dan softly stroking his hair and whispering words of comfort.


	8. Epilogue

Months went by, and they settled into a comfortable routine, familiar habits slowly making their way back to the both of them; Dan recovering from the fear and Phil the trauma. Occasionally, the older of the two males would wake after shadows of his attackers plagued his dreams and invaded his mind, but Dan's arms were always there to comfort him. They were never caught. The terror that struck Phil every time he thought about those men roaming the streets, preying on other victims, or that maybe they would hunt him down again, slowly and surely resided. Despite his eventual recovery, the impacts on his life were irreversible. He never went anywhere alone, his trust in strangers completely wiped out. Perhaps it would be something that would return, but then perhaps not. All Phil knew was that without Dan, he would still be a train wreck, hurtling off the tracks.

They talked everything over once Phil was calm enough, both agreeing it was best to let the past be the past and live for the present. After all, they had a lot to thank each other for and neither was willing to leave the other again. Life returned to normal; video games, teasing, _Buffy _marathons, laughter. But something wasn't quite right, and it wasn't until one of Phil's breakdowns that it was discovered what.

Phil awoke screaming, throwing back the covers and clutching the hair at his temples, curled up in a ball and tugging relentlessly in an attempt to remove the images burned into his brain. He kept them locked away, but the sight of his injuries too often escaped, lurking in the background of dreams or resurfaced by the scars on his skin. As always, Dan rushed into his room, sitting next to him and wiping the mixture of tears and sweat from his face, gently prying his fingers from his grip on his hair and whispering comforting noises until he collapsed into his arms sobbing. But this time, when the crying stopped, Phil didn't pull away. His bare legs entangled with the rough fabric of Dan's jeans, somewhere in the back of his mind noting that Dan must not have gone to bed yet, but for the most part he was more focused on all the sensations. The pounding of his heart, gradually slowing, against his ribcage, feeling like it was threatening to burst through his chest. The soft material of Dan's shirt that rubbed the bare skin of his stomach every time he shifted as he was wearing nothing but boxers. How smooth and warm Dan's skin felt, where his arms were looped around his neck, playing with the dark hair on the nape of Dan's neck. The lazy patterns that Dan traced on his back with his finger.

Phil looked up through his eyelashes, bloodshot eyes meeting concerned ones, giving a small smile of reassurance. Dan smiled back, his hold on Phil's waist becoming slightly more firm. The change in pressure felt nice, prompting a lazy yawn to escape, eyes fluttering shut. He felt the arms encircling him begin to release him, but he looked up with wide eyes. He was happy. He liked it. He wanted to stay like that forever. So, in a moment of impulse, Phil leaned up and kissed him. And after a moment, Dan kissed back.

_~end~_


End file.
